A Way to Get By (3 page)

CHAPTER 4

Scenes from an Italian Restaurant

EDDIE

Sunday, September 21

1980

A
t first, I drank.

   A lot.

   I knew Bren and I had to separate, but it didn’t mean I had to like it.

  
Obviously
, I didn’t like it.

   I spent those first days in a whiskey-induced haze, trying to obliterate her smile from my mind. The way her hair felt tangled around my fingers. The way her body felt under my hands.

   Her body. Christ.

   Bren had a body men could fight wars over. Back in our school days? Whenever she’d walk down the hall, every guy she passed was forced to slip a notebook in front of his zipper, concealing a hard-on. She was irresistible. And her face. Jesus. She was like a goddamn Keane painting. Wide brown eyes that were too big for her head; luscious full lips that you’d want to suck on for a lifetime. Helen of Troy’s face may have launched a thousand ships, but Bren’s launched a thousand dicks.

   Even mine. And I had enough experience with the opposite sex that her effect should have been lost on me. The fact that she was unapproachable only added to her appeal. She likes to think that guys didn’t ask her out because she was shy. Fact is, she was too beautiful. It was intimidating. No one wanted the inevitable rejection she was sure to dole out to any putz that tried to make it with her. I was the only guy that had the cojones to attempt it. Then again, lack of confidence was never really a problem for me.

   I was no slouch in the looks department. I knew what I was working with.

   And work it I did.

   During my teen years, I had sex with more women than is appropriate to discuss here. I think I was subconsciously readying myself for the forever with Bren. I got all that sowing-oats crap out of my system years ago. Now, I only wanted her.

   And I couldn’t have her.

   I pulled my car into the back lot at
Mama’s
, Hackensack’s greatest Italian joint and my second home. My best friend Anthony took the biz over from his mother back in seventy-two but I’d been employed there in one form or another since I was a teenager. The place used to be a gourmet Italian grocery store, so my first job was stock boy. Once Mrs. Leone converted it into a restaurant, I took a position as waiter. I kept my eyes and ears open, and never missed an opportunity to check out what was doing in the kitchen.
When Tony took over, he gave me a job on the line, and eventually, I moved up to sous. Under Marciano’s guidance, I’d become a semi-respectable chef myself.

   Not head chef, though, a fact Brenda liked to exploit often.

   I shook my head of the memory and pulled the heavy steel door open. Even though the line guys had already been on the clock since dawn, they worked on the other end of the kitchen. Marciano wouldn’t be in until later. I was optimistic that I’d be able to grab a few minutes of alone time.

   It immediately became apparent that “alone time” wasn’t going to happen. Tony was waiting for me, leaning against my station, his arms crossed. “How’s it going, Ed?”

   I pulled my apron off the hook and slipped it over my head. “I’m guessing you’re not asking me in a general sense.”

   Tony eyed me for a pause before saying, “Virginia and Brenda had lunch yesterday. I’ve heard your wife’s side, now I’d like to hear yours.”

   There weren’t too many people I would bother talking to about this, but Tony and I had been friends since the first grade. If there was anyone on this planet I could’ve trusted with all the sordid details, it would be him. But I couldn’t tell him everything. It would’ve been a total slap in the face to Bren, and I wasn’t going to sell her out like that. “Shit happens, Tony.”

   Tony pushed off the counter and stepped between me and the basket of shallots I was reaching for. “
Shit happens?
You’ve been with this woman for over ten years—married for five—and you’re going to explain the sudden demise of your relationship on
‘shit happens’?
Hell, you moved out of the apartment a week ago, and I didn’t even find out about it until yesterday.”

   I knew he was digging for an explanation. It’s just that I didn’t have one. “What the hell do you want me to say?”

   “I want you to tell me the truth!”

  
The truth. Ha!
“I can’t tell you more than I told you already.”

   I slumped against the steel prep table and drummed my fingers against its surface. I became fascinated with the pattern of holes on my work clogs while Tony stared me down. I knew if I looked up, I’d be met with the concerned rise of his eyebrows, and I just didn’t think I’d be able to take it.

   I shook my head at my shoes before blurting out an answer. “Fine. The truth is that Brenda thinks I’m a fucking disappointment. The truth is that I couldn’t listen to her tell me I’ve failed her for even one more day. The truth is that she’s obsessed with money and I don’t have any!”

   Tony’s mouth tensed in a firm line as his lids tightened. “If a raise is going to be all it takes to save your marriage, I’ll happily bump your pay.”

   “That’s not what this is.” I ran a hand over my hair and had trouble meeting my friend’s eyes. “It wouldn’t matter anyway. She’d just want more. More money. More adventurous sex. More goddamn red pistachios in the fucking snack jar on the counter. More, more, more, all the time. I just got tired of living up to her failed expectations.”

   Tony let out with a resigned sigh. “Sounds like a sit-down is in order. Seriously, Ed. This all sounds like stuff that can be worked out. I mean, it’s not like she cheated on you, right?”

   “No. Never.”

   “She develop a sudden predilection toward drugs? Alcohol?”

   “No.”

   “Gambling problem?”

   “None of the above, man.”

   “Well, then this is just a matter of Working Shit Out. The both of you are coming to our house tomorrow for dinner. Six o’clock.”

   “Tony, wait. I don’t think—”

   “No arguments. Virginia and I will help you two through this. Just like old times.” He gave me a wink at that, and left me to get back to work.

   Sure, Tony. Just like old times.

CHAPTER 5

The Great Suburban Showdown

BRENDA

Friday, October 10

1969

I
pulled my cardigan tighter around my shoulders and tried to concentrate on the screen. Eddie insisted that there was no better way to watch a movie at the drive-in than with the car top down but the temperature had dropped along with the setting sun, and I was doing all I could to ward off the chill.

   He’d just bought the car over the summer, and I guess he was trying to show it off. I had to admit, it was really far-out. The Mustang was brand-new, red, sleek, and shiny… and suited him to a T. It had an ample backseat, too, which was where Virginia and Anthony were presently getting cozy as I sent up prayers of thanks to the BVM for the gear shift separating my body from my date’s.

   Not that it discouraged him. He’d been inching closer to my side of the car all night, tossing out the occasional flirty comment, and generally acting like the cad that he was. I don’t know why I was surprised. I thought I would’ve been thrilled to finally be out on a date with Eddie; I’d been googly-eyed over the guy for the better part of three years. But it was easy to daydream about him from afar. Actually having his gorgeous form moving ever closer to my body was positively terrifying.

   Paul Newman and Robert Redford were just getting ready to jump off a cliff when Eddie decided to put his arm around me. Although, I suspected his motivation had less to do with my shivering and more to do with his goal of placing his hand closer to my boob. He had his palm draped over my shoulder but his thumb was floating in dangerous proximity to the side of my bra. Making it with Wilson Edwards while watching
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
was certainly
not
what I dreamed I’d ever be doing in my Maidenform.

   “You want some popcorn or something?” he asked.

   “No thanks.”

   “A Coke?”

   “I’m fine.”

   “How ‘bout a hot dog?”

   The suggestive rise of his eyebrows wasn’t lost on me, and my mouth dropped in astonishment. Before we even came out tonight, I was nervous about what he’d expect of me during our date. He’d thrown out a few subtle innuendos over the course of our evening but this latest comment flat-out confirmed my fears.

   Virginia stifled her giggle as Anthony’s voice piped in from the backseat. “Eddie, leave her alone, for chrissakes.”

   Eddie smiled through an exaggerated sigh as he released his hold on me to tap the steering wheel with his thumbs. “Hey, man. I’m just trying to take care of my girl.”

   “She’s not your girl yet, jerkpot. Keep acting like a mauler and she never will be.”

   Eddie just snickered before shooting me a wink. “Yeah right.”

   He was so darned cocky. I expected him to be confident, but I wasn’t digging the conceit. I was also unfathomably regretting that I’d agreed to this date. When Eddie asked me, I was on top of the world. Almost immediately afterward, however, Anthony stated that he and Virginia would be accompanying us. I couldn’t at first understand why he felt the need to play chaperone, but I was starting to figure it out. I’d spent most of the evening warding off his advances.

   I mean, I knew that he was a ladies’ man, but I guess I always assumed it was because there were so many
ready-and-willing
ladies at his beck and call. I thought he’d act more like a gentleman when he was on a
real
date.

   I was a bit spooked by this version of him and knew I should have been feeling entirely turned off. But I have to admit, there was a teeeeny tiny little part of me that was intrigued by it. A wolf in wolf’s clothing, he didn’t try to hide who he was or what he wanted. He made no apologies for the fact that he found me attractive. The way he leered at me or cocked an eyebrow or quirked his lip. It was all serving to make me feel supremely…
feminine
. There was no way to forget I was anything but a woman when I was at the receiving end of such dripping male sex appeal. Not only a woman, but an incredibly desirable woman at that. No boy had ever made me feel that way before.

   And no sweater could save me from the shiver that ran down my skin
that
time.

   Anthony gave up on playing Superman to continue making out with his girlfriend. I was surprised to see Virginia kissing him back. Even though she’d been going out with boys since we were fourteen, she was normally so sweet and innocent about it. I guessed she got over it, though, because those two were necking like old pros.

   I kept my eyes front and center after that.

   Goosebumps broke out down my arm as Eddie brushed my hair over my shoulder to lean close, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered,
“That should be us right now.”

   Trying to avoid melting into a puddle, I returned, “They’re going steady. We’re not.”

   “I could change that, you know.”

   My heart leapt before I realized that he wasn’t necessarily asking me to be his girlfriend. He was merely testing my reaction to his
possible consideration
.

   I gave a huff and crossed my arms again. “You
could
, but let’s not pretend that you
will
.”

   His head jerked back as he furrowed his brows, looking at me in bewilderment. “Why would you say that?”

   “Eddie, please. Everyone knows that you don’t ever go steady with anyone.”

   I wasn’t trying to force his hand regarding our relationship status; I was simply stating a fact. I couldn’t understand what he was waiting for, though. He had to know I wasn’t into this new, fast-and-loose type of dating and I guess I assumed he’d asked me out because he was finally looking for something a bit more traditional.

   “Maybe I just never met the right girl.”

   Eddie put a hand on my knee as his lip curled dangerously. He was trying to be charming but instead, his “promising” words only served to get my feathers up. Didn’t he say I wasn’t like his other girls? Why was he treating me like one? Apparently, he only thought I was the “right girl” for one thing and one thing only.

  
Fat chance, big shot.

   I’d finally had it with the whole, stupid evening. He’d wasted our entire night together—first by treating me like one of his “one-night girls” and then by throwing an insincere line at me like I actually
was
one. I couldn’t believe I almost fell for it!

   He nudged into me as his blue-green eyes flashed with expectation, waiting for me to turn into putty from his words and his touch. Instead, my blood turned to fire as I answered, “Maybe you shouldn’t treat her like a common tramp when you do!”

   I whipped open the car door and stomped off toward the playground. I didn’t have any idea what I was going to do when I got there; I was just trying to get as far away from Wilson Edwards as humanly possible. But sure enough, just as I passed the snack bar, Eddie was on my heels, chuckling out loud and attempting to cool me out. “Bren! Hey, Bren, c’mon. Wait up!”

   He was
laughing.
Who the hell did he think he was?

   I was so steamed that I whirled on him, my hand involuntarily flinging forward in an attempt to slap him. Eddie’s smile vanished in an instant as he grabbed my wrist, and instead of reveling in the satisfying smack of my palm across his jaw, I found myself trapped in his iron grip. His teeth clenched as his low voice warned, “You don’t want to do that, Bren.”

   We were bathed in shadow from the building, and I suddenly realized how careless it was to storm off into an abandoned area with only a predatory lecher for protection.

   I was angry and out of breath from my trek across the lot. My eyes were shooting daggers as my chest heaved, the two of us staring each other down. Eddie was cautious as he released my wrist, probably expecting me to try and hit him again… but I wound up smashing my lips to his instead.

  
From the first contact of our mouths against one another, I was lost. My head immediately went dizzy and I was afraid I was going to faint. My throat let out an involuntary moan, and I think the sound stunned him even more than it did me.

   He slid his hand under my hair and pulled my face closer, deepening the kiss, setting me on fire.

   I’d never felt anything like it and I couldn’t bring myself to break away, even when his hands slipped from my nape and slid over my hips, even when he pulled me tighter along the length of his body and groaned into my mouth. My fists gripped his shoulders, steadying myself, losing myself.

  
His palm started to roam up my side, around to my front… and that was enough to snap me out of the moment.

   I immediately pulled back, raising my fingers to my trembling lips. I couldn’t believe I had just kissed him. I couldn’t believe he had kissed me
back
. But mostly, I couldn’t believe how amazing it felt! I thought I was angry. So, where the heck did that come from?

  
To cover for my disjointed thoughts, I chastised his groping. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  He ran a thumb over his lips, a sheepish expression on his face. “I’m sorry, Bren. You deserve better. I know you’re not… Sometimes I forget that not all girls are the same.”

   “You’re right. Some of us have
class
,” I returned.

  
Oh sure. Making out with a guy on the first date behind a snack bar. Real classy, Brenda
.

   Eddie must’ve been thinking the same thing because he chuckled as he said, “Look. I really like you. I’ve never met a girl that I ever really liked before. I want to get to know you.”

   “Yeah, right. You’ve been acting like there’s only one thing you want to know about me.”

  
He let out with a deep breath as he ran his hands through his sandy hair. “I really am sorry. I was nervous, if you want the truth.”

   I wasn’t sure if I believed him and warily considered his words. “Nervous.”

   “Yeah. You know… I guess I was trying to play it cool, live up to my reputation. It’s not who I am, I promise. At least it’s not who I want to be.” He reached forward and laced his fingers with mine, the usual storm in his eyes settling into a calming blue-green sea. “Can we just forget about what a putz I’ve been all night and start over?”

   It was a sweet enough olive branch and I found myself debating the merits of accepting his apology. I wasn’t yet convinced that the reward would outweigh the risk but I
was
convinced I was seeing a completely different Eddie than the one I thought I knew. This Eddie was an improvement.

   When I didn’t answer right away, he asked, “C’mon. Why don’t you tell me something about yourself. Like… what’s your favorite sandwich?”

   His words took a few seconds to register. Once they did, I couldn’t control the burst of hilarity that escaped from my throat. “My favorite
sandwich?”
I laughed out, unable to stop my giggling. My arms folded across my middle as I bent at the waist, caught in a hysterical, irrepressible, completely mental fit.

   Who was this guy? I couldn’t figure him out. Just when I thought I had him pegged as a big, fat jerk, he goes and says something so completely unexpected and silly. The absurdity helped to break the tension, at least. It was hard to stay angry when I was laughing so hard.

   Thankfully, it looked as though I’d seen the last of Mauler Eddie, and was finally getting a glimpse of what I hoped was Real Eddie. I liked this version way better than the old one and wanted to do what I could to keep him sticking around for a while. He was met with my first genuine smile of the whole evening as I stood back upright and answered, “Bologna and Kraft singles with potato chips. What’s yours?”

   “PB and J,” he smiled back. He must have been grateful to finally see me being myself because he kept the line of questioning going. “Favorite book?”

   “Hmmm,” I stalled, shocked yet again by the question. Who knew he cared about books? “I don’t know that I could name a favorite. I love almost everything I’ve ever read.”
  

  
“Well, okay, what’s your most
recent
favorite?”

   Just to test him, I answered with a fairly new, fairly obscure title. “
The Love Machine
by Jacqueline Susann. It’s about this guy who’s a TV network execut—”

   “I know what it’s about. I read it last month. Stop looking so surprised.”

   “You did?”

   “Yeah. It was no
Valley of the Dolls
, but it was pretty good.”

   I was speechless at that bit of news, and could do nothing but stand there staring at him.

   “What?” he asked, laughing. “Books aren’t gender-specific. Besides, my mother is the reader in our house. I have to make do with what’s available.”

   “But you liked them? They’re
romance
novels!”